Barbaric
by Flarn
Summary: After Wikus is cross with Oliver one time too many, Christopher resorts to a barbaric human punishment, spanking, to deal with his misbehaving houseguest, but what results from this is something neither of them could have predicted. Mature readers only.
1. Chapter 1

This story is the result of several prompts from the District 9 threads on /coq/ that I threw together. If you like this story, please write one of your own. I'm starved for D9 smut!

* * *

Wikus was in a foul mood. Not that it was any surprise. He was turning into an alien creature and stuck living in a slum. His teeth and nails were falling out, and his hair had decided today that it also wanted to join in the fun of abandoning him and further stripping him of dignity. He had woken up this morning to find a huge clump of it nestled like some sort of fur-bearing vermin on his mangled, cat urine scented pillow. Upon finding it, he had screamed in horror, and darted out of the shack, intent upon finding some sort of mirror-like object he could use to inspect the damage.

"Fookin' Prawns," he muttered, pain from his aching, nail-less fingertips making his anger and frustration flare higher as he rooted through mounds of trash, searching for that elusive bit of shiny material that could show him the pathetic state into which he had descended. "Fookin' black Prawn shit in a can that's turning me into a fookin' Prawn..." He wasn't sure exactly what sort of latent masochism it was that prompted his urgent need to behold himself when he knew that his appearance had been getting steadily worse by the day. Perhaps it was the fact that the search for a mirror was a desperately needed distraction, something upon which to focus his attention so he didn't need to think about what he would see when he finally found something that would be suitable for showing his reflection.

The faint hope that Christopher had offered - that he could potentially be turned human again when they had collected enough fuel to make up what had been lost when the cannister sprayed him in the face - was damped down almost to non-existence by the fact that it would take THREE years for the Prawn to return and make good on his promise. Three fucking years AFTER they had found enough fluid, when it had taken Christopher and his friend Paul over 20 to assemble what they had. It was yet another reason for him to grumble as he fumed and baked under the hot, African sun, rummaging through the endless morass of stinking refuse that comprised his new life in District 9.

Being angry, of course, took a lot more energy than staying calm, and before long the heat, coupled with the exertion of growling and throwing things had left Wikus nauseated and faint, and, consequently, in even worse humour than when he had started. He slumped to his knees amidst the garbage and bowed his head, feeling at once furious and immensely sorry for himself.

"What are you doing, sweetie man?" a shrill voice clicked in a way that could be called cheerful.

Wikus groaned aloud, not bothering to hide his annoyance as he lifted his head, seeing Christopher's son, Oliver, staring at him out of huge yellow eyes. "Go away," he hissed, too tired and drained to fill the words with as much venom as he would have liked.

"Are you looking for some of our technology like father does sometimes?" the youngster piped, undeterred by the cool welcome he was receiving.

The former MNU agent's head ached, and all he really wanted to do was be left alone with his misery, but subtlety was lost on the fucking kid, and apparently so was bluntness. "I said GO AWAY!" He didn't make the conscious decision to do it, but instinctively sought out a means to communicate his wishes to the child, as well as vent his fury, and that was to pitch a piece of scrap in the little one's general direction.

But that day Wikus was blessed, or perhaps cursed, with a better aim than he had ever intended, and the projectile connected with Oliver's armoured forehead with a sickening crack in a blow that would have seriously harmed him had he been human. As it was the Prawn child's legs gave out in surprise, and he collapsed onto his scrawny bug backside, gazing at Wikus with such a magnitude of hurt that the other had to look away for a moment.

Wikus' fury melted away, replaced by shame. He had never intended for this to happen. Sure he had thrown things at Oliver before, but only to chase him off. It had almost been playful, almost been a game. He had never actually wanted to hurt the little guy... had he? "Oliver..." he began. "I didn't mean..."

But before he could apologize the kid was on his feet and scrambling away as fast as his little grasshopper legs could carry him, off towards home to tell his father, no doubt. Christopher would probably be angry, probably very angry - as any parent in their right mind would be, for Prawns were not the careless, negligent parents that MNU would have people believe - but the thought did not fill Wikus with fear as it might once have. Instead, a twisted thread of hope, much stronger than the hope of salvation, slithered its way through his tormented soul: perhaps Christopher would be angry enough to kill him.

With this in mind he did not try to hide or flee, he did not try to go back to the shack he shared with the two Prawns, trying to apologize, he simply remained where he was, amidst the trash and filth. After all, it was where he belonged.

It took a long time, much longer than Wikus would have expected, for Christopher to come and retrieve him, and when the red-vested Prawn finally did arrive, it was with a far calmer demeanor than Wikus was sure he would have had if their circumstances were reversed. The tall Prawn stood looking down at his uninvited houseguest in inscrutable silence for several tense, uncomfortable minutes before he finally spoke. "Come with me."

Shakily, Wikus got to his feet, confused, and more than a little unnerved by Christopher's calmness. He had expected, had hoped, to be ripped to shreds by now, his body in little pieces scattered to fester amidst the junk, but instead he was being told to follow. And follow he did. For all that he did not know what was going to happen, for all that he might be a prisoner being led by his executioner to the place of death, he followed.

There was no sign of Oliver as they approached the shack, Christopher holding the door open and following Wikus inside, blocking any avenue of escape.

"Is Oliver alright?" Wikus asked, worriedly.

"He is fine," Christopher replied, although as Wikus let out a sigh of relief he amended his statement. "Physically, at least, but he is very hurt that you would try to injure him like that. He thinks you are his friend."

Wikus looked down at his feet, feeling his shame deepen. He half-heartedly began an explanation, despite knowing that nothing he could possibly say would make what he had done alright. "I..."

"Do not speak," the alien interrupted with stridulent clicks of angry disapproval, but his wide yellow eyes held only deep disappointment. "You've made your feelings abundantly clear."

Now that was a bit unfair. Perhaps it had looked like he didn't care, but the truth was a far different thing. He had tried to save them, hadn't he? Had risked his life with Christopher to retrieve the fluid from MNU. He had just been a little... cranky lately. "But..." he tried again, but again was cut off by the Prawn.

"Quiet." Christopher clicked the command tersely and held up a hand for silence, fixing Wikus with a stern, unyielding look. "You have said enough. It is my turn to speak now. I know what you are going through isn't easy, and the thought of losing everything you have ever known must be very frightening for you. But that does not excuse the way you have been behaving towards me and my son. You have been behaving like a spoiled child who has never been taught manners, and I have been trying to be patient with you as I would with Oliver, but patience alone does not seem to be working. Your irrational behaviour could jeopardize everything I have worked for, as well as the future I promised you, but you do not seem to even consider that in your selfishness. No, you cannot even behave in a civilized manner to save yourself. But I have been doing some research on the Internet, and I believe I have found something to help you." Christopher turned around and began rummaging through a cupboard. "Take off your pants."

"My... my pants?!" Wikus sputtered in shock and confusion.

"And your undergarments as well." Christopher continued rummaging. "No doubt the procedure is familiar to you."

"Procedure? What? Fook!" There weren't many 'procedures' he knew of that involved taking off his pants and underwear, and none he could think of that were possible at this moment sounded particularly pleasant. His eyes, one human and one Prawn, both practically bugged out of his head in horror. "I'm not letting you fookin' rape me!"

"I'm not going to rape you," Christopher said, calmly, turning around, what looked like an old leather belt folded in his hand. "I'm going to give you a spanking."

Wikus stared, his mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out, certain that he was hallucinating because there was no other possible explanation for the surreal situation in which he found himself. "S-s-spanking?" He winced inwardly at his suddenly wavering tone, but it couldn't be helped. Death was sounding better and better.

The prawn fixed him with an inscrutable look, one clawlike finger rubbing the worn leather thoughtfully, gingerly, almost as if it were a snake he expected would bite if provoked. "When I read about the practice, I was horrified that anyone could do something so brutal and barbaric to their children, but now I think I'm beginning to understand why it is done. Some human parents seem to feel it is acceptable to inflict some temporary pain if they believe it will prevent worse suffering for their children in the future. And you have definitely been behaving childishly enough, and with little enough sense of self-preservation, to warrant this sort of intervention."

"I'm not childish! And you're not my father!" Wikus shouted childishly. "Or my mother! Or both, or neither! Fookin' hermaphrodites!" he added as an afterthought.

"Maybe not," said Christopher patiently. "But I am responsible for your well-being. You are living under my protection. Unless you would like to leave?"

Wikus felt helpless tears starting in his eyes and wiped them away angrily with his good hand, shamed by the way his emotions were reeling. On the one hand, he felt terrible about what had happened with Oliver. On the other hand, he had his pride to think about, but even at its most inflated his pride would not allow him to think he could survive a day on his own in District 9. "I have nowhere else to go."


	2. Chapter 2

Christopher nodded in understanding, liquid gold eyes seeming almost apologetic, but his clicks were filled with steely determination. "Very well. Take off your pants."

"Err, couldn't we, umm, do that with clothes on?" Wikus wheedled, backing up slowly until his soon-to-be-abused bottom bumped against the table. "It's fookin' embarrassing..."

Shaking his head, the red vested Prawn took a step forward. "I know humans are uncomfortable without clothing," he explained, "but I need to be able to see your skin to judge how hard I should be hitting you. I am far stronger than a human, so I could inflict bruises easily without meaning to."

"I'll take the bruises," Wikus muttered, trying to maintain some dignity, some control in this almost farcical situation.

"That is not your decision to make," said Christopher, stepping forward and grabbing Wikus around the wrist. "If necessary," he stated calmly, "I'll tear your clothing off and you'll have to dig in the garbage for new clothing with your backside red like a babboon's and all your reproductive organs swinging in the breeze. Is that what you want?"

The mental image alone was enough to make Wikus wince, his stomach sinking as if it were filled with lead. "No..."

Christopher shrugged non-chalantly, but his body language was alert, aware, ready to deal instantly with non-compliance. "Then take off your pants."

It seemed he was left with no choice. Trembling, Wikus complied, fumbling with his fly now that he had only one human hand to work with, finally working the button free and then pulling down the zipper. He pushed the trousers down past his knees and kicked off his shoes, before stepping completely out of the garment, then went to work on his y-front underwear, which had once been white but were now an unsavoury shade of grey. He stepped out of those as well and stood awkwardly in his bloody shirt and his grimy socks, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at being so exposed, even in front of a Prawn who probably found him about as sexually interesting as a bowl of oatmeal.

"Bend over the table," Christopher clicked authoritatively, and Wikus did so, jumping as the Prawn pushed his shirt up higher, so that his narrow, white buttocks were perfectly exposed for the punishment soon to come.

Wikus glanced back, warily, at the object in the alien's hand. In point of fact, he had never been spanked before in his life, his parents having not believed in physical discipline but he had heard stories from his friends who hadn't been so lucky. The belt, he had been informed, was one of the most painful tortures a parent could legally inflict on their offspring. "Are you really going to use that?" he asked nervously.

"If I use my hand I could shatter your hip bones," Christopher informed him, tersely.

Wikus gulped, feeling his face go from the red of embarrassment to the ghostly white of horror as he contemplated the ghoulish possibility. "A-alright, the belt sounds s-safer, then..." Safer? What the hell was he thinking? A Prawn with a belt? He might as well have Christopher take a blowtorch to his arse and be done with it... Then he remembered the look of hurt and disappointment on Oliver's little face, and thought that even that was better than he deserved.

"Brace yourself," said Christopher, and Wikus did so, keeping his legs together tightly to hopefully avoid his privates getting hit by accident. He knew it was going to be bad enough....

...and it was. Crack! "AUGH!" Wikus screamed helplessly, rearing up from the table as the first swipe of the belt struck home, causing an explosion of pain as if someone had laid a red hot iron bar across his tender flesh. He forced himself back down and the belt struck again, making him whimper and cringe, wondering if getting spanked with a belt would feel this awful if he were getting it from a human, or if it was just Christopher's superior strength that made it feel like each strike of the solid, merciless leather was taking off a layer of skin. He stuffed his arm into his mouth, trying to muffle the cries and at the same time not bite down and jeopardize the rest of his loosening teeth.

Swap! Again the wicked leather implement plowed into his once pristine rump that, until recently, had known only the comfort of cushy ergonomic office chairs, but now it was learning a new sensation: raw, undiluted agony. He bucked against the sensation, the hot, shocking pain reminding him of his time in the MNU laboratories, forced to operate alien weapons, forced to kill...

Whap! "Fookin' Prawn!" Wikus' angry outburst was momentarily soothing to his wounded ego, but the even harder blow that came after it did not do anything positive for his increasingly sore rear end.  
THWACK! The belt bit hard into his naked buttocks, quickly taking the wind out of his sails. He shifted his hips from side to side, squirming in discomfort.

"Keep still," Christopher admonished.

"How am I supposed to keep still?" Wikus demanded, inwardly aghast at how weak his voice sounded. "It fookin' hurts!" All of the sudden it was too much, this situation was bad enough without having to play out some sadistic disciplinary nightmare. One moment he was still, the next he was running for the door, heedless of his half-naked state, only thinking of escape. It was too much, everyone was asking for too much.

Almost effortlessly Christopher caught him, wrapping him in inhumanly strong alien arms.

Wikus exploded like a cat about to be dropped into a bathtub, or at least tried to: struggling, twisting, kicking but all to no avail as the alien simply stood there, holding him, and allowed him to tire himself out."No! Stop! Leave me alone you fooking pervert! You're sick, man, you're fooking SICK!"

Christopher clicked softly, almost gently. "It's alright, I know it hurts. I know staying still is difficult, but I'll help you. I promise we'll get through this together, just like we're going to face everything else." Carefully he dragged a still weakly struggling Wikus back towards the table, and placed one arm across the human's shoulders, forcing his chest down onto the rickety wooden surface and pinning him there. He raised the belt clutched in his other hand to take another swing.

Once again the hard leather cracked against Wikus' vulnerable posterior, only this time it was much, much worse. More than physical pain, it was now the deep sting of humiliation. Now he was being held down, now the illusion that he had any real choice in the matter was stripped away, leaving him feeling helpless. Vainly he writhed in Christopher's grasp, kicking his legs up, but that only made the Prawn shift a little more, pinning Wikus's flailing lower limbs between his own.

"No! Let me go! Ahhh!" In the midst of his demands the belt flashed down again, sending his thoughts tumbling like a rockslide. It grew increasingly difficult for him to concentrate on anything but the pain building in his hindquarters with each new smack of the rough hide, until his skin felt like it was glowing with burning, stinging heat.

"Ahhh! Please!" he found himself begging, found, to his great alarm, that tears of reaction had somehow started running down his cheeks to pool beneath his face on the table. "Please stop, I'll be good..." He was disgusted with himself - here he was all but blubbering and pleading like a five year old. Why couldn't Christopher have just killed him and gotten it over with?

Instead Christopher was beating him to within an inch of his life, or so it seemed, beating him, and yet otherwise being so kind. The way he was being held, with such a gentle firmness, the way the alien was talking to him, so soothingly, it contrasted so sharply with the violence being done to his backside. "I know you will be," Christopher told him. "When I'm finished."

Another swipe from the belt, and Wikus shuddered and let out an undignified squeak as he tried to muffle his cries against his arm again. He twisted once more, in a vain attempt to escape, but Christopher continued to hold him tightly. Each slap of the leather across his increasingly tender, quivering flesh hurt so much! And he couldn't do anything to stop it, he just had to wait it out. "God, fookin' prawn, don't I have fookin' bruises yet or something?!" he wailed.

"No," Christopher clicked, pausing momentarily to inspect his handiwork, perhaps out of concern that Wikus might be correct. "I'm being very careful. Your posterior region is very red, but it doesn't appear that there will be permanent damage."

"What are you now?" Wikus snapped, before taking a watery, sniffling breath that mortified him. His nose was filling with snot, but he wasn't crying. He wasn't! "Some kind of fookin' doctor?"

"I did my research," Christopher stated calmly. "You are perfectly safe. Please try to relax and this will be over faster."

"Relax? I don't want to fookin' relax!" Wikus' attempt at a shout emerged instead as a despairing cry. "I feels like you're scraping my fookin' arse off with a potato peeler, I'm stuck in a dump, I can't see my family, I'm turning into a fookin' creature, and on top of it all I thought I was a good guy, but I can't even been fookin' nice to someone who's trying to help me out, and a fookin' kid who is just trying to be my fookin' friend...!" Oh no... Oh no... He wasn't... No! Desperately the human held his breath. Not like this. Centuries of cultural mores piled down on him in a suffocating weight. He was a man, he wasn't supposed to...

The belt came down one final time, branding him in a swipe of pure, cleansing pain, and he broke, collapsing against the table and sobbing pitifully. "I'm sorry..." he whimpered. "I'm sorry.... I didn't mean..."

"I know." There was a sound of coiled leather hitting the floor and then Wikus found himself lifted and gathered into chitinous arms, and carried towards the back room where the two Prawns slept. Unthinkingly, he wrapped his arms around Christopher's neck, burying his face against the gentle susuration of gills and sobbing his heart out.


	3. Chapter 3

"It's alright," Christopher clicked, rubbing the human's back as he settled down onto the sleeping pallet, reaching for a ragged, mouldy smelling throw pillow which he slipped underneath Wikus' sore rear. "I'm sorry too. I did not want to do that, you know."

"Then why?" Wikus asked in a weak voice, when he could finally speak again, unconsciously squirming on the pillow, gasping as he felt the deep ache in his backside that would probably be around to remind him of this event for at least a week.

"You endangered my son, for one thing," Christopher said, but his clicks didn't seem to hold any lingering animosity.

"I didn't mean..." Wikus began, feeling tears start anew.

"I know," the Prawn clicked, interrupting him. "I have been able to get a sense of you these past days, and there were moments that allowed me to see you can be surprisingly... tolerable, when you want to."

Wikus barked a hoarse chuckle in spite of himself, shocked and humbled by the strange wash of pleasure that the approving words from the alien brought. "Thanks."

"Unfortunately, you were too immersed in your own suffering to be completely rational and my attempts to get through to you with kindness did not seem to be working, at least until I read a very interesting human proverb: 'Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind'. Despite your barbarity your people have great wisdom."

"Thanks again," Wikus murmured, the generosity of praise contrasted with humanity's poor treatment of Christopher's people making him feeling uncomfortable. He covered it with a lame joke. "I think." He was silent for a moment, thoughts churning, until an unconcious adjustment to his position on the pillow sent a deep throb of pain through his well-punished buttocks. "Ummm, do you think... Do you plan on doing this again?"

Christopher clicked, gold eyes twinkling in a way that almost seemed mischievous. "What? Having you sit in my lap? Oliver might object to sharing."

The mutating human winced as the Prawn brought up the catalyst for these recent, uncomfortable events, his earlier train of thought momentarily forgotten. "Uhhh... Where is he, by the way? I need to apologize."

The hand that had been resting motionless against Wikus' back since he had stopped crying began moving again, stroking him with a petting motion that seemed to denote approval. The movement sent unexpectedly pleasurable tingles through the exoskeletal plating errupting from his skin. "He is playing at a friend's house. I will go get him before nightfall."

Wikus nodded, and returned to his earlier line of questioning. "What I was asking was, are you planning on doing this," a wave of his hand indicated himself, the cushion beneath his rump, and the entire situation, and he prayed Christopher would have mercy on him and answer because he did not want to say the s-word out loud, "again?"

"Spanking you, you mean?" Christopher asked, and Wikus noticed for the first time, now that he was not distracted, how the alien's attempt at pronouncing the human word made it sound like something far more lewd, and far less sanitary.

Wikus cringed to hear the word he had been avoiding, unconsciously hiding his face against the Prawn's shoulder in embarrassment. "Yes, that."

"I would prefer not to," the Prawn admitted, "but that will depend on you."

The human did not like that statement one bit, but it wasn't as though he could really prevent Christopher from doing anything he liked. In fact, he was downright lucky to have fallen into the hands of someone as benevolent as the alien was. "I don't want to be any more trouble," Wikus said.

"Good."

The hand on his back resumed its petting, and Wikus sighed, realizing that, despite how sore his bottom was, he felt bizarrely good, all of a sudden, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but it was more than that, more even than the detoxified feeling of a cathartic emotional release he couldn't remember having felt in God knew how long. No, it was still more than that - a strange, bubbling effervescence seemed to tickle through his blood, making him feel giddy like he'd had too much to drink. But the feeling was more than in his blood, no it was far, better, and far, far worse than that, for he found himself sporting the hugest, most painfully pleasurable erection he had ever had in his life.

He started down at himself in shock and complete mortification, which, after a moment drew the gaze of Christopher, who looked down as well but did not seem at all concerned, though it was difficult to tell, with Prawn facial expressions.

"I read this might happen," the alien replied, continuing to pet Wikus, which definitely showed his lack of concern.

"On the Internet." Dimly, Wikus remembered him mentioning something about research, and Internet, and he was surprised that Christopher would choose to spend his hard earned money for one of the pathetic Internet accounts MNU made offered more as a formality than a service they actually intended to deliver. Then again, with the amount of computer equipment strewn around the hut, perhaps he ought not to be so astonished.

"Yes, there is a wealth of information to be had." Christopher tilted his head and lifted his chin in a way that appeared almost smug. "Once I hacked my way past the miserably small amount of Web sites MNU approved for offworlder use."

Wikus clicked his tongue. "I knew you were trouble from the moment I laid eyes on you. Fookin' prawn..." But the words were spoken in a tone of admiration, and he found himself patting Christopher's shoulder to show just how impressed he was by the alien's apparent ingenuity. "So," he asked, trying to sound casual. "What else did your 'research' tell you, yeah?"

"It told me that spanking is also an act among lovers," Christopher clicked, looking away for a moment. "That some humans enjoy it because receiving moderate pain without physical damage causes pleasurable chemicals to be produced in their brains. That the act of spanking someone is sometimes considered to be symbolic of mounting and sexually dominating them."

The words 'sexually' and 'dominating' sent a sharp, delicious ache through Wikus' erection, making him groan, because he had hoped, apparently in vain, that the conversation would settle him down. Christopher's next, pointed question, also did little to help.

"Are you one of those humans who finds spanking arousing?" he asked, with another quizzical head tilt. "You did not appear to be feeling pleasure."

"I'm not, I wasn't..." Wikus raked his human hand through his hair, absently registering that more of it had fallen out, but to his surprise he was too engaged in this exchange of ideas to care. Much. "I've never done that before. My parents never spanked me, and I never did it with with my lovers. Lover," he corrected, for if he was honest with himself there had been only Tania. "What you were doing to me, it didn't feel very good. At the time I couldn't find anything enjoyable about it, but now, every time I think about it I... Oh..." his head fell back as a bead of precum pushed its way out of the tip of his penis and trickled down. "I thought only depraved people liked that sort of thing. I guess I'm one of them, yeah?" He laughed uneasily.

Christopher shook his head. "You humans, always worrying about what others may think about your pleasure activities, what is supposedly right, and what is wrong. If what you are doing does not harm anyone else, then why trouble yourselves? It makes no sense."

"You may have noticed there's a lot about us that doesn't make a lot of sense," Wikus replied dryly. There! A perfect moment to change the subject, direct it away from these undesirable, arousing thoughts about spanking, domination, and the dark, sweet, forbidden submission it implied. "So what about you?" he found himself asking, steering the subject back on its original course in a fit of what must have been unbridled madness. "Did you... did you enjoy spanking me?"

"No," Christopher clicked tersely, then admitted, "a little, you have been a very ungrateful houseguest."  
"Not like that!" Wikus scoffed, finding himself pressing back against Christopher's hand, which had stopped petting him. "Did you, I don't know, get off on the thought of of symbolically mounting and sexually dominating me?" He slapped a hand over his face. What on Earth had possessed him to ask that question?! Whatever it was, it was getting worse because the next question out of his mouth was even more scandalous. "Would you want to do that? I mean the whole dominating and sexual thing, you know..." He jammed his human fist into his mouth, trying to make himself shut up, and waited for Christopher to stand up and dump him unceremoniously from his lap, or worse. Getting fresh with an alien, he was completely bonkers!

Instead, the Prawn merely glanced away again, yellow eyes growing distant. "I haven't... It has been a long time since I've done anything like that. My mate, Oliver's other parent, died before Oliver hatched. He was... unbalanced, he had something that is similar to what humans call Bipolar Disorder. Life here was hard for him, and we had no medicine that would help him. He alternately raged against the humans, making plans to kill them all, and then fell into such deep depressions that he would lie in his own excrement and I would have to take care of him like a hatchling. I foolishly thought a hatchling of our own would give him some hope, something to focus on, and for a while he seemed happy, but... one night he stole a gun from Obesanjo and blew himself to pieces. It... took some time to figure out what had happened since I was used to him running away for days, sometimes weeks at a time, hiding in another part of the District..." The Prawn cut himself off and shrugged.


	4. Chapter 4

Wikus found himself deeply shocked and moved by the story, a stray tear trickling down his cheek. He was turning into a regular fucking waterworks, and wasn't that just lovely? He swiped angrily at his eyes with his human hand, struggling to find something to say in response. Not that there was really anything helpful he could say, but he had to try, nonetheless. "Fook, man, that's... that's fooking horrible. I'm sorry..."

"I couldn't save him," Christopher clicked softly, absently beginning to stroke Wikus' back once again. "I thought maybe if I saved you, it would be like saving him. You... remind me of him, sometimes."

It was not entirely flattering to be compared to an alien in poor mental health, but the look in Christopher's eyes as he turned back to face Wikus made it obvious that it was someone Christopher had cared about. He had wanted to have a child with this Prawn, after all. Wikus awkwardly cleared his throat. "I, uhhh... Thank you."

"So as I have said, it has been a long time for me, and you... you seem to be confused." Christopher's tentacles wavered anxiously. "And so am I. What just happened, it wasn't what I expected. The information I read made spanking sound so simple, they even broke it down into steps: explain the reason for the punishment, ask for compliance, deliver the punishment, and offer love, forgiveness and reassurance afterwards."

"'Love, forgiveness, and reassurance', yeah?" Once upon a time he would have laughed his head off if he had heard those words coming from a Prawn's mouth, but now something about them made Wikus' stomach do flip-flops. "I don't really feel like I deserve those things."

Christopher's hand slipped further down Wikus' back, lightly tapping at the human's backside in a way that sent a flash of discomfort, followed by a wave of dark, unctuous heat that went straight to his groin, and Wikus wondered if the Prawn had any idea what he was doing. "You've earned them. You accepted and dealt with the consequences of your actions, you are apologetic and want to make amends - in my mind, your debt is paid."

There was a long pause as Wikus processed this, amazed at the generosity of someone he felt he'd wronged enough that there really ought to have been no going back. But life was often unfair. Sometimes the unfairness worked against you, his slowly metamorphosing body was proof of that, but sometimes you were given a second chance. "So what now?" he asked. "I'm confused, you're confused, we're all fookin' confused, and you never answered my question. Did spanking me excite you, and make you think of doing other things?"

The Prawn looked at him directly, solemnly. "Are you offering yourself to me?"

Wikus swallowed hard, unable to believe the words that came out of his mouth, yet knowing with shocked, terrified certainty that they were true. "I... I think I am, yes. You're so strong, I want to feel..." Oh god, this was terrible, it was sick, but he wanted everything, wanted it with a guilty, shameful yearning that made his insides twist deliciously. He imagined Christopher covering him, moving powerfully, overcoming his reluctance in with the pounding, aching harmony of forbidden sex.

"I will not simply throw you down, ravish you, and let you delude yourself into thinking you did not choose this," Christopher stated, the close parallel of his words to Wikus' thoughts making the changing man's dimorphic eyes widen in shock. "Do not look so surprised, I have observed how you think. I will give you what you want, but only if you can surrender willingly to me."  
The word 'surrender' caused a powerful throb between his legs that made Wikus' knees grow weak, so it was fortunate that he was already sitting down. It was what he wanted, God help him. Such a dark lust fermenting in his blood, a sordid, awful, terrifying desire to prostrate himself before this frightful, soulful creature and be violated in the most degrading way possible. He'd seen the anatomical diagrams - the real ones, not the MNU propaganda fed to the general public to prevent latent xenophiliacs from getting unsanitary ideas – he knew it was possible. He swallowed again, feeling both excited and impatient. "I can do that." Just fucking take me already, he thought.

"Prove it," Christopher clicked. "Touch me."

Wikus reeled for a moment, having not expected that. In his mind he had unconsciously set his own parameters for surrender and submission, and they involved lying supine, or facedown, arse lifted high, the unintended promise of the spanking delivered by Christopher fullfilled in a storm of hard thrusts, and groans, and triumphant, lustful clicks. He was genuinely frightened by the prospect of delay, during which he might have time to think better of his fantasies and succumb to the cowardice, the pressure to conform, which had stalked him all his life.

But was it real submission if everything happened as he decided it should? He didn't think the answer was yes. The solution, however, was at once simple and desperately complicated. Christopher had told him exactly how to get what he wanted. All he had to do was be a man and do something to show he was willing.

"Fook, I must be fookin' mad," Wikus muttered, more to himself than to the alien who was still holding him. He shifted in the Prawn's lap, moving his legs to straddle the other being, tossing the cushion that had been protecting his hindquarters aside and settling his aching backside astride warm, hard exoskeleton, groaning in a mix of pain and pleasure. Then, in a flash of almost suicidal audacity, he rose up a little in Christopher's lap and mashed his lips to the fronds of tentacles veiling the alien's mouth, shocking himself as much as the Prawn beneath him with the sudden amorous gesture.

Christopher's eyes widened and he made a few clicks of surprise and alarm, a shiver running through his frame, but after a moment he settled, and did not pull away - as a part of Wikus had hoped he would – and call the whole thing off. There was nothing left for the erstwhile MNU pencil pusher to do but extend a fearfully flickering tongue to lightly explore the wavering screen of the Prawn's sinuous mouthparts.

The taste was not what he had expected. He had been afraid it would be foul, but instead it was surprisingly neutral and clean, with only a faint metallic tinge. Christopher's hands tightend uncomfortably, claws digging into Wikus's back, causing the metamorphosing human to yelp and pull back. An inscrutable look passed between them, Christopher's hands relaxed, and Wikus leaned in again, this time trailing kisses down the alien's neck and past the now almost agitated hitching of gills, finding himself trembling with a new level of excitement.

He regarded Christopher again, wondering what else he could do, and then it hit him. "Fook..." he whispered aloud, unable to believe he was seriously considering the idea that had just crossed his mind. "Could you... could you lay back for me, Christopher?"

Trustingly, Christopher did so, and Wikus was left astride the Prawn's thighs, looking down the gleaming, marbelized green of his exoskeleton. He slid down the alien's body, pausing now and then to taste and lick between armoured plates. It did not have the same effect as it might have had on a human's unprotected expanses of skin, but the little shivers he caused encouraged him a great deal. Finally he paused, face to face with the scrap of tan cloth that covered Christopher's pelvic region. He hesitated, glancing up at the Prawn, in a search of permission. "May I... May I take this off?"

In answer, Christopher reached down, clawed hands trembling faintly, trying to fumble the quasi loin cloth out of the way of the region that was reputed to house his alien loins, such as they were. Finally, clicking in frustration, he slid one hand beneath the cloth and slit it open, pulling the two sides of the fabric apart.

Wikus regarded the expanse of exoskeleton before him, a little bit disappointed at finding it more or less featureless, at least when compared with a human's. There was a pair of slightly segmented ridges forming a narrow, diamond shape, and further down, at the apex of the prawn's inner thighs, a small opening. He knew the rough outline of a Prawn's genitalia had male attributes above, and female below, so he thought he was on the right track. The female parts would be connected to that small opening, but the male equipment was not so readily apparent.

He leaned down a little further to inspect the area, pleased to find that it did not smell unpleasant, instead there was a warm, spicy, earthy sent like rich black loam and coffee grounds. Tentatively, he reached out a finger and circled the female genital opening and the shudders of the Prawn beneath him increased.

Daringly, he traced his tongue where his fingers had been, finding the taste oily, but not unpleasant. In response Christopher made a keening sort of squawk, bucking his hips upwards with a force that would have broken Wikus' nose if he hadn't had the quick reflexes to scramble out of the way. The Prawn's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, his clawed hands fisted in the ragged blankets.

"Did I... did I hurt you?" Wikus asked worriedly, only dimly aware now of the ache in his buttocks, far too enthralled with the fascinating sight before him. Could his ministrations really be having such an effect on this exotic alien being?

"No." Christopher peered at him through half-lidded eyes, almost as if he was afraid to look. "I did not think you would go this far."

Wikus hadn't thought he would go this far either, and he was both surprised and curiously pleased, as well as pleasantly curious about what might come next. "Well I did," he said, almost proudly. "And I'm going to do a bit more, if that's alright?"

"Yes," Christopher said, closing his eyes once more.

"Maybe," Wikus suggested, "maybe you could hold still a bit... you know, not try cave my face in with your pelvis if you get a bit excited, yeah?"

The Prawn nodded, mouth tentacles twisting fretfully, eyes still closed, fingers clenching tighter in the blankets.

"Alright." Wikus cautiously leaned down again, moving his tongue in featherlight touches against the small opening, as gently as if it were a woman's clit. Further up on the sleeping mat, there was the sound of cloth shredding, and a protracted, clicking groan, followed by a wet, slippery sound as the two ridges on Christopher's pelvis moved apart, and a gleaming, cylindrical object with a beveled tip unfolded from its hiding place.

Wikus stared in astonishment. "Wow. That's your.... that's your... thing, is it?" He fixed a wide-eyed look on the alien penis before him. Penis was probably not the proper word, but it was the only word he had to reference the anatomy he was beholding. It was huge, thick, and greenish like the Prawn it belonged to, and dripping with a copious amount of fluid. Unable to help himself he reached out, spanning its girth in his fist in that familiar gesture, and measured it from base to tip, gently squeezing along its length.

Christopher shifted from side to side making soft, clicking whimpers that Wikus would have sooner expected from Oliver. The Prawn's shaking legs spread wider, unconciously imploring. It had been a long, long, long time.

Seeing him like that, Wikus could feel only sympathy, no, empathy, an empathy that quashed his reluctance to cross that final line between himself and unbrided depravity. He would feel like a bastard if he didn't at least try. Warily, like a child expecting to receive a dose of nasty medicine, he leaned forward, extending his tongue, and licked...

A hoarse, rattling moan escaped the throat of the Prawn beneath him, and, without stopping to think, Wikus licked again. The fluid coating the alien member seemed to be the same viscuous, slightly oily substance that he had tasted at the female opening, still not completely unpleasant despite its abundance, but the unbridled vocalizations Christopher had started making had the human lapping it up like nectar.

Pride and awe filled Wikus as he continued licking. It was fucking magnificent, this powerful, incredible being that could rip him in half without much effort, reduced to mindless pleading by the touch of his mouth, his tongue. Even though the sounds Christopher was making had no real human parallel, the language of pleasure, it seemed, was universal.

Grinning wickedly, he took the tip of the organ into his mouth, sucking on it lightly. Christopher shot to a seated position as if electrified, tentacles and mandibles pulled back, emitting an anguished warble of need. He bent double, curling over Wikus as he continued sucking, and finally placed a hand on the human's head.

Wikus paused for a moment, looking up, and in response Christopher leaned down, mouth tendrils sweeping to taste himself on the other's lips. "I accept your surrender," he said.


	5. Chapter 5

The human shivered, closing his eyes as the quivering, living fronds played over his mouth, before moving on to trace the rest of his face. Abruptly he found himself flipped onto his back, the Prawn stretched out atop him, their erections, human and alien, pressed together firmly as Christopher began to worry at his neck with his mandibles, biting hard enough to leave conspicuous marks.

"Oh! Oh God..." Wikus groaned and bucked upwards against Christopher, shuddering at the sensation of the bites, and the shamefully delicious knowledge that they would be visible evidence of his transgression, could even be imagined, in the darkest corners of his psyche, as a statement of ownership.

Christopher made a few pleased sounding clicks, grinding their hips together briefly before beginning a similar journey down Wikus' body to the one the human had previously made down his, pausing only long enough to eliminate the barrier of Wikus' mangled shirt by tearing it open in a cascade of popping buttons.

"Fook!" Wikus' exclaimed, gasping as Christopher's trailing mouthparts found his left nipple, and the Prawn paused, lingering to explore the sensitive area, tentacles swirling around it, mandibles that could tear through raw flesh giving only the lightest of nips before moving to give similar attentions to the other side. The human's hips rocked upwards, his legs spreading wider in order to absorb more of the sensation of the alien's slick organ sliding against his own.

Eventually abandoning Wikus' chest, Christopher moved downwards again, and Wikus whimpered, bereft, at losing the separation of their groins. The Prawn's dipped briefly into the human's bellybutton, eliciting giggles, and made a huff of disappointment that these were not the delicious, imploring sounds of before.

A too-warm exhalation against Wikus' erection told him the Prawn had stopped again, and Wikus froze, the reality, the immediacy of what lay before him too much, too raw to contemplate. An almost too faint tickling sensation at the tip of his penis as the alien sampled the slipperiness of the pre-ejaculate pooling there, and then a waterfall of tentacles trailing from tip to base, fanning over heated skin. He would have bucked, as Christopher had, but the Prawn easily held him down and engulfed him fully in feathered slickness and a sudden almost scalding alien heat.

"Ahhh, Christ!" Wikus tried to buck anyway, alternating between trying to squirm away from the achingly intense pleasure and offering himself in lifted supplication to the alien's surrounding mouth, but Christopher's grasp was delightfully inescapable, and it made him hotter still.

Wikus could have been content just with this, more than content, actually, Christopher's attentions were thorough if not expert, and the thrill alone, the stark, forbidden reality of getting a blowjob from an alien was fuel for the darkest fantasies he had never known he'd had. But at the same time he knew there was more, more than he hadn't experienced, images filled with terror and delight that made his thoughts swim and his toes curl. "Please," he implored, asking for what he feared and craved. "More..."

In answer, Christopher disengaged and flipped Wikus over, pulling the human onto his hands and knees. Wikus let out a squeak of alarm, pressing his thighs together hard in instinctive self-defense, then, after a moment, took a deep breath and spread them wide, opening himself to be plundered as he both feared and desperately wanted.

Christopher leaned in, placing a hand on either one of Wikus' still aching buttocks and parted them, staring at the narrow expanse of untouched flesh in between the crimson hemispheres. Wikus blushed hotly and dropped onto his elbows, hiding his face in his arms, painfully conscious of the quivering, vulnerable pucker of his anus, the channel of his rectum that throbbed hot, narrow, and virginal, an area of such deep taboo that he'd always tried to keep it strictly out of mind, now drawing his awareness as his pelvic zone flushed more deeply with the blood of arousal.

Now, it would be now. He clenched his fingers while willing his nether regions to relax, but when the sensation came it was not the blunt, hard pressure he had been expecting, but another hot exhalation and the delicate, exquisitely slow tracing of moist tentacles, tickling his hole, making it feel even more exposed and ready for plundering.

"Uhnn...! What are you doing?" Wikus exclaimed, blushing more intensely in unadulterated shock, this time trying to squirm away in earnest, but with his shaking hips framed by implacable Prawn hands he was getting no further than he had before.

Christopher didn't pause immediately to answer, but continued his attentions as Wikus whimpered and wriggled helplessly. Finally he took pity on his trembling victim and paused. "Preparing you," he said.

"I see..." Wikus began, but whatever he would have said was lost in a protracted groan of almost anguished sounding arousal as Christopher resumed his ministrations. "Fook, God, holy fookin' fook!" He was mortified, disgusted even, at having such intimate attention paid to such a forbidden part of his body, but he was also unwillingly, unbearably excited.

Eventually Christopher tired of toying with him, which was both a disappointment and a relief, and it was all Wikus could do not to collapse completely as the alien released his hips. The Prawn knelt behind him, and Wikus could feel the hard, moist tip of the other's organ pressing against his sensitive opening.

"The purpose of this orifice is not for sexual penetration," Christopher remarked.

"You figured that out, yeah?" Wikus remarked dryly.

"I will try to be gentle, but you need to relax."

Wikus realized that he'd unconsciously tightened up in anticipation of the main event, so he took a deep breath and tried to force himself to relax. Information, gleaned from hours of illicit Web browsing about sexual behaviours he could never indulge in with Tania crept out from the secret, shameful corners of his mind where he'd locked it, specifically a recommendation on how to relax for anal intercourse. Feeling ridiculous, he attempted what the site had recommended, and bore down as if expecting to have a bowel movement, an action that was supposed to loosen the tight sphincter. Sure enough, the tip of Christopher's alien cock immediately slipped in, squeezing past the narrow ring of muscle with much less discomfort than the human had been expecting.

/I'm getting fucked in the arse,/ Wikus thought, /an ALIEN is fucking me in the arse./ But such coherence was beyond his means to vocalize, the shamed exultation escaping instead in a ragged moan.

Having gotten past the first barrier, Christopher pushed inwards with relative ease, Wikus' plundered anus spreading wide around the Prawn's girth, the sensation almost painfully intense as the human's mind filled with images he'd stared at in rapt and horrified fascination, men, abasing themselves before other men, the alarming close ups of the penetration zone, the exquisite, raw obscenity of holes stuffed and stretched with forbidden cock. Now he looked like that. Now he was living a dark, pornagraphic spectacle that played out in the lights behind his eyes, and the haze and heat diffused like unctuous liquor through his blood.

Christopher released a chorus of almost agitated sounding clicks as he sank in all the way, the hard exoskeleton of his hips pushing into the comparatively soft, still sore flesh of the human's backside. He leaned down, mandibles locking on the back of Wikus' neck, and began to thrust slowly and deliberately.

Wikus' Prawn arm raked furrows in the dusty floorboards of the shack, his human hand clenched tightly in a protective fist to preserve his shedding fingernails, and he whimpered mindlessly with each stroke, eyes rolling back in his head at the unbelievable culmination of his most feared and cherished fantasy. That it was an alien on top of it all, or perhaps simply that it was Christopher, that only made it worse, or really, if he were to be completely honest with himself, which was rare - far, far better...

"Are you alright?" Christopher clicked, slowing his thrusts for a moment. "You're making the same sounds as when I was spanking you – are you in pain or are you aroused?"

"Both," Wikus muttered, then hastily backpedalled as Christopher moved to pull out. "No! Don't do that... the, you know, the sex is alright, it's just you whipped my fookin' arse with a fookin' belt and now you're pounding it with that fookin' hard exoskeleton of yours – how do you think it feels?"

"You like it," Christopher stated, then leaned in to nip the other side of Wikus' neck, remaining perfectly still, although still planted deep inside the human beneath him. One clawed hand reached around, a single fingertip brushing teasingly along the underside of of Wikus' erection.

Wikus didn't reply, but began to squirm when Christopher did not start moving right away, the attention to his penis only increasing his need. "Yes, I fookin' like it, alright?!" he all but shouted in exasperation, needing the exquisite friction to resume again. "Just keep going!"

The Prawn made a soft, whirring sort of purr that sounded entirely too smug for the former MNU agent's liking, and resumed the almost torturously slow movements of his hips.

"Mmmm!" The sensation of fullness, of being so open to Christopher's attentions, was breathtaking, but it wasn't enough. "More! Please..."

"I had no idea begging from a human would sound this good," the Prawn clicked, nibbling on Wikus' neck again. "What is it you want? Do you want me to go harder? Are you sure I won't damage your fragile tissues?"

"Fookin' tear me apart, I don't care!" Wikus pleaded frantically.

"I would not willingly betray your trust by harming you," Christopher murmured against Wikus' neck as tough, armoured fingers closed with deliberate carefulness around the unprotected flesh of the human's erection.

"I don't... I don't trust you..." Wikus stammered.

"Of course not," Christopher purred, the hand engulfing Wikus' arousal beginning to stroke slowly. "That's why you have bared your vulnerable parts to me, why you wanted me inside you in an act you both fear and desire..."

"I don't..." Wikus began again, but his denial was soon suppressed as the Prawn behind him quickened his pace. "Ahhhh!"

"Lie if it comforts you," Christopher hissed, hips now plunging against Wikus' upturned buttocks with probably as much force as was prudent. "I can smell the truth."

Stars errupted behind Wikus' eyes, the sensations in his nether regions, the pounding, stretching fullness that stabbed at something within him – probably his prostate, he realized dimly - making it ache wonderfully... All of it was too much for him to form more arguments. His testicles felt swollen and congested with impending release. A few more strokes and it happened, making him stiffen and spill with an anguished cry over the alien hand enfolding him. "Ah, God...! Chris! Fooooook!"

Christopher crooned a sympathetic and needful reply, his thrusts becoming short, staccato bursts, frantic, barely withdrawing pushes as if he could somehow invade the human beneath him even more than he already had. Abruptly, the alien stiffened, and vocalized a whimpering, inhuman chirl, and Wikus felt hot, viscous, luxuriant warmth flooding his insides, setting off a flare of delicious aftershocks.

"Ohhhhh, God..." he groaned, feeling suddenly giddy and boneless and so drunk with afterglow that he barely winced as Christopher withdrew before collapsing onto his side and pulling Wikus down with him.

"Sleep now," Christopher said, and that was just what Wikus did.

Much later, cleaned up as much as possible and dressed as best he could be with his shirt now devoid of buttons, Wikus crouched down in front of Oliver, the ache of his punished rear strengthening his belief in what he was about to say. "Listen kid, I'm sorry. I've been rotten to you when you were just trying to be friends."

Oliver shrugged, amber eyes blinking. "It's alright. Father said you were grumpy because you haven't been feeling well and you were scared of changing into one of us and all your human parts falling off. I'd be scared too, if my parts started falling off." The young Prawn reached out to pat Wikus' human arm sympathetically.

Wikus bit his lip. "Yes, I was – I am – scared, but I'm also very lucky because I have you and your dad looking after me and helping me. I'm going to try to show my appreciation a little more from now on." His eyes met Christopher's over the head of the child before him, the unspoken message hanging between them, making his sore backside tingle in fearful, and grudgingly aroused, anticipation: he had better behave, or else.


End file.
